


The One Where Starscream Gets Covered In Sex Pollen

by fascinationex



Series: transformers fics by fascinationex [3]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Again, Alien Planet, Altered Mental States, Begging, Dubious Consent, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, No humans involved, Porn, Sex Pollen, Starscream excels at being a cautionary example, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-14 14:16:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18949843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fascinationex/pseuds/fascinationex
Summary: All Starscream had to do was steal some energon crystals from a bunch of barely-sentient organics. It was such a simple task. Megatron’s needling was intolerably galling to his pride.It's a sex pollen fic.





	The One Where Starscream Gets Covered In Sex Pollen

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This is shamelessly, completely self indulgent. I wanted to write sex pollen, and I wanted to try writing sticky at some point. Live your dreams, I guess.
> 
> 2\. Note on time units: for the purposes of this fic, an astrosecond is between a quarter and a third of a second; a joor is roughly an hour.
> 
> 3\. Note on continuity: this was supposed to be TFP, and that's why it's all "goodness Megatron is huge" and "energon crystals!" and so on. And then Skywarp showed up... and now it's... Primeration One?

Cybertron was dark, derelict and almost entirely drained. Where energon once ran fast and glowing in thick veins beneath the surface, now there was nothing but frightened scavengers and vermin and huge empty spaces. The crystals, deeper, more concentrated and harder to process, had also been thin on the ground for years -- and none of that helped the Decepticons when the Nemesis, their great flagship, had blown out an engine and drifted off at its then-current momentum in the vast blackness of space. 

Such a speed, for their ship, was still very fast -- they were moving frictionlessly forward at the speed they’d been going when their means of propulsion died -- but it was very fast in one direction only, and they had veered badly from their course.

 Their engineers were good, and beneath the looming shadow of Megatron’s temper they were especially efficient, so the engines were back in functional, if not optimal, working order within days. But their star charts were... less amazing. They were off course, a little lost, and running very low on rations. 

Planet ZX772 was the only place in this system that hit their scanners as having any kind of energon in its crust, and ZX772 was not the ideal solution to this problem. The planet had a curious metal in its composition that, combined with the storms that raged across the surface, interfered with all forms of communication. The largest native life forms, despite being organic and therefore wet and slightly squishy, were of the rare class of organism that grew larger than the average mech. This was not to say that they were larger than, say, a combiner -- but one alone was bigger than even Megatron, and that was quite enough of a concern to be going on with. 

All of this would be nothing, of course, if all that was required of the decepticons was to drop through the storm layer, nab some energon crystals via an operation of a few cycles at most, and then return later in force to conquer the planet and relieve it of the burden of organic life. Except that the organics had already found the energon crystals, and they were... using them.

Sort of.

Probably.

“Are those fools _praying_ to the energon?” Starscream asked aloud. 

Starscream leaned forward, braced with a hand against the arm of Megatron's throne, to peer more closely at Laserbeak's projection. The low lighting on the Nemesis's bridge was an energy-saving measure that had been enforced more strictly across the whole ship in deference to their recent rationing, but the result was that they were mostly lit by the sickly glow of screens and bio lights bouncing off highly polished surfaces. Megatron's red eyes seemed especially bright in the dimness.

It was not necessarily so easy to tell what was going on: ZX772‘s fools in question were the native life forms, and they looked... alien. Starscream had seen a great many aliens in his functioning, and it remained true that some aliens were more alien than others. These organics were huge. They had five to seven legs apiece, and strange long bodies that seemed largely to be made of angular carbon bones and long flaps of dark, ragged skin. Starscream had not noticed optics, but they must have had some way of detecting light -- or at least heat, perhaps -- because they seemed more or less diurnal.

ZX772 had forests -- uncomfortable looking ones, organic ones, nothing at all like the pretty crystal forests Starscream remembered from his own early life -- but these beasts seemed too big to move unobstructed through them. The plains, even through what he could tell of them from Laserbeak's feed, were littered with strange mineral compositions and the debris of organic decay.

The feed showed the alien creatures coming one by one, each breaking away from its unit, to rub their greasy skins upon the mounds they'd made of piled up energon crystals. Every time, there was a low meaty rumbling sound from somewhere deep in the organic’s body, and then it got right back up and picked its slow and eerily precise way back to the same unit from which it had come. Starscream had seen chrono escapements that moved like this: carefully articulated, perfectly precise, and yet each new moving part took one by surprise until the whole ticking mess became unsettling to watch. 

“Unclear,” Soundwave said, from the other side of Megatron's huge dark throne. He was nearly lost in the shadows behind Megatron's bulk, with only a thin pale line of reflected light gleaming from his armour. “...Possible,” he added after a moment. 

Any one of those things was twice he size of a seeker. If they were territorial about the crystals... 

Megatron propped his head upon one fist and watched the feed with burning red, critical optics. His engine rumbled with displeasure when he spoke, giving the words an ominous weight. “We need the crystals. Starscream, take Thundercracker and Skywarp. We’ll put you down there during the next break in the storm, in... Soundwave?” 

“Seventeen hundred astroseconds,” Soundwave supplied. 

“They’re coming a joor apart, according to the atmospheric reports-”

Starscream synthesised an irritable noise. He’d generated half the atmospheric reports. He cast an annoyed optic over at Megatron, who ignored his interruption as though it had not even registered.

“--so you’ll need to be done by the next window of opportunity.”

“Of course,” Starscream said, so sharply he almost cut off the final word of Megatron’s statement. Megatron didn't look at him.

“Large storm front,” Soundwave offered, “encroaching.” 

Obligingly, the projection changed from Laserbeak’s recording to a display of the planet’s topography, showing the current meteorological conditions -- and their likely future.

“That’s joors away,” Starscream said disdainfully. Something would have to go catastrophically wrong for them to be stuck on ZX772 by then. “We’ll be in another system by then!” 

Soundwave paused for a hanging moment and then silently inclined his head.

Megatron cut his optics from the projection toward Starscream. “You seem confident, Starscream,” he drawled cynically. “I hope your confidence is not _misplaced_.” 

His tone made it perfectly clear that Starscream, too, should be very concerned about the possibility of failure.

Megatron was one to talk, he thought. He sat there, lounging his enormous, powerful and eminently capable frame around in his throne in this attitude of supreme self-assurance -- and sent Starscream out to do the real work.

Starscream tore his gaze away from the absurdly broad armour of Megatron's chest plates gleaming in the low light and focused back upon his burning optics. 

He wouldn't try to send Starscream to do it if he truly thought Starscream might not succeed. No. Megatron was hungry too, after all. His smug digs at Starscream's competence only served the purpose of _undermining_ him in front of the other Decepticons. Yet another _painfully transparent_ ploy to keep him in his place, assuming one thought Starscream's place was beneath Megatron... 

He lifted his wings and raised his chin. “Do not doubt me, Megatron," he sneered, knowing he was being goaded and resenting that it was working so well, "those crystals will be ours.”

He pivoted on one heel, sharp and precise, and left before anybody else could think to get in the final word. 

All Starscream had to do was steal some energon crystals from a bunch of _barely-sentient organics_. Megatron’s needling was intolerably galling to his pride.  
 

* * *

“I dunno,” said Skywarp, not long after. “Those things are pretty big.”

They were in their jet forms, in flight over the planet’s surface. They had to fly lower down than Starscream would have preferred, so low that when they went over heavily forested swathes of land they were dodging the tops of organic flora -- mostly plants featuring huge, hairy, exposed rhizomes that sent their broad unfurled fronds towering up into the muggy clouds, apparently just to obstruct innocent seekers. Despite the obstacles, the three of them had to fly low to avoid the storm clouds. ZX772 was wet and sticky and seething hot in any case, raining down constant sheets of faintly alkaline, slippery fluids from the skies, so it was not just discomfort that kept them below the clouds: rather, the storm clouds did unholy things to their scanners and it was impossible to get any information about what was going on upon the ground from within them.

When they had finally cleared the forest and hit the plains instead, Starscream could see, dimly through the sheeting rain, the distinct glow of energon crystals in the starlight. His senses were calibrated for it -- manually, but also naturally. With or without their advanced scanners, a Cybertronian frame was optimised for finding energon pretty much any form.

The aliens were keeping them in strange little piles, and no pile of crystals was unattended.

Skywarp wasn’t wrong. The organics _were_ big. And even more unsettling up close, Starscream decided as he slowed and circled the nearest pile of crystals and its attendant alien overseers, because their slow and precise movements were interspersed with moments of lightning fast motion -- short, sharp bursts of activity that shook the ground, usually between members of the same social unit. They seemed always to culminate in a violent crash between their bodies and a spray of... something. It was fluid, but it did not seem to do them any damage to produce it -- not like energon, or oil, or even coolant might be to one of them. 

“Three’s no proof they’re even intelligent enough to notice us when we take it,” Starscream pointed out. You couldn’t really assume much about the culture or mechanology or - ugh - biology of aliens. These creatures didn’t even have laser cores. Why assume they had intelligent processing? The vast majority of alien life did not. Statistically--

One of the creatures made a vile, damp rumbling sound, like a kind of horrible organic _glurrrp_ in its middle, and then darted around another only to collide -- apparently intentionally -- with a third. It was deft, fast, and produced a ground-shaking thud. Even circling aloft, Starscream felt the vibration in his wings. On contact, both creatures produced yet more mystery fluid, secreting and spraying it from the gaps of their ragged dark skins.

All thoughts of statistically probable processing power fled Starscream’s own frontal processor. His fuel tank did a barrel roll without consulting the rest of him.

“Why are they so _wet_ ,” said Thundercracker in an ill voice, echoing Starscream’s sentiment exactly. Everything on this planet was wet, but the aliens were... especially and disgustingly so.

Skywarp just made a noise like he was trying unsuccessfully to clear a clogged vent.

“Let’s just dive in and grab them,” Starscream said finally, optics fixed on that soft pink glow. Looking at the vile aliens was not going to make them feel any better. “They’re stupid, and they can’t fly and they don’t have onboard weaponry.” At least, not in any form Starscream recognised. Being trampled would still be best avoided, but it wasn't as though they had blasters.

“What do you call _that_?” Skywarp demanded, watching another collision and subsequent wet spray. 

Starscream clenched his jaw, which was a very odd feeling indeed in jet form.

“There’s solvent on the Nemesis,” he said grimly. Skywarp synthesised a deeply pained noise -- with which, in principle, Starscream did agree. In practice... 

“Would you like to be the one to tell Megatron we changed our minds and that actually the mission was too gross,” Thundercracker suggested. 

The very thought made Starscream’s plating click with an aborted shudder. He tried to imagine making that report, and his entire personality matrix rebelled at the idea. His ego wouldn’t tolerate it.

Skywarp made another noise, but the threat of the alternative and Megatron’s displeasure -- which was best avoided even when he _wasn't_ critically hungry -- seemed to strap some steel back to his wings. 

“Let’s just get it over with,” Skywarp said. 

So down they went. 

The landing was easy. The ground was hard packed, full of disgusting organic debris but also more familiar mineral deposits. As the atmospheric reports had promised, there were clusters of distinctive, gold-streaked scilanium tetroxide just laying strewn about on the ground, right out in the open. It was a pity that the Nemesis was not equipped to transport that kind of explosive, otherwise it would have been a valuable find all on its own.

Where the aliens had stacked up the soft-glowing energon crystals, the ground was flat and packed down hard from the weight of their stomping all over it -- and each of them was much heavier than a seekers, even had any of them been adequately fuelled. As it was, the whole ship was on rations. 

The soft glow of the crystals made Starscream very aware of how much fuel remained in his tank. The fuel distribution notification crept in and made a solid effort to hijack his emotional subsystem with a flicker of _want, want, want_. He ignored it. Next to him, Thundercracker transformed with a familiar whir, landed and made a soft pleased little rumble with his engine when the crystal light fell across his face.

They paused there, watchful, but not one of the aliens did more than sort of shift, vaguely, in their direction. Starscream saw some of those ragged flaps of skin shift restlessly, saw one of them secrete more of that fluid in a glittering liquid spill down its hide -- but none of them made a move toward the landed seekers in their midst. 

:Guess they really are that stupid,: Skywarp said over a tightly locked trine channel. He drifted closer to one of them as Starscream turned back to the crystals. 

:Do not poke them,: Thundercracker shot back.

:Don’t be stupid,: sent Skywarp, although whether he meant that _of course he wasn’t going to poke them_ or that _duh of course he was_ , was harder to tell. 

:Start grabbing,: snapped Starscream in a harsh burst of data before that could get out of hand.

Energon crystals were extremely concentrated. They’d probably only need ten or twelve to get the whole ship and every Decepticon on it back to Cybertron. It would be ideal to return with more than that, obviously, especially since Megatron had so slighted his competence earlier. The nerve of him. Starscream seethed at the very memory. Well. He’d prove him wrong -- effortlessly. He shoved the first crystal into his subspace and reached immediately for a second. 

He felt the hideous, wet growl of one of the organics -- and then, quite suddenly, _all_ of the organics in disgusting chorus -- with his entire frame. The hard-packed ground vibrated beneath his feet with a tremendous impact. Thundercracker yelped a warning, and Starscream shot into the sky without looking back to see any further detail. 

His thrusters fired, and an astrosecond later his transformation cog kicked in and he whirred into jet form in mid-air. A huge, ragged limb, moving unbelievably quickly, whistled past his right wing on his rapid ascent. 

“It’s going to --!!”

Starscream knew _exactly_ what the disgusting beast was going to do. Desperately, he twisted, and with a screech of protesting metal he ducked behind Thundercracker in an acrobatic mid-air manoeuvre, leaving his trine mate to take the brunt of all the gross organic fluids. 

He heard him shriek behind him, even as the sound of hot liquid splattering metal met his audials. The splash hit Starscream as well, all across the breadth of one wing and the edge of his canopy, but when his heat sensors stopped going absolutely wild he could tell that Skywarp and Thundercracker were both positively dripping wit the stuff. 

“Gross,” moaned Skywarp. “Gross, gross...” 

Starscream did not even snarl at him to shut up as they retreated. The plains dissolved into ferny forest beneath them and they landed, steaming in the cool rain, and regrouped.

It was natural to switch from jet to robot form as they came to ground. Starscream felt the rain, as well as traces of the fluids, seep in through his open seams, but only a little of it hit his internals -- although what did seemed unpleasant. As soon as he was in robot mode again his plates clamped shut, and nothing else leaked in.

“That did not go as planned,” Thundercrakcer said. Then, with feeling: “ _Ugh_.”

Skywarp shook out all his plating, opening and closing it rapidly to get the oily fluids off him. As far as Starscream could tell, it just let more of it inside to clog his internal mechanisms instead -- it was more like a clinging oil bath than a nice solvent. Hot like an oil bath, too. 

“Are you getting errors,” Thundercracker said suddenly, before they could even think about how they were going to distract the aliens away from the crystals. His voice was thick with static. 

Starscream looked sharply over at him. The rain was turning from liquid to gas where it struck him, sizzling gently, and all his armour was fluffed out so his seams gaped at their widest and most open setting. It sacrificed defence for rapid cooling, but it did not seem to be helping. 

“Yeah,” said Skywarp, without much urgency. “Heaps.”

“What?” Starscream said, looking nervously between them. It was that stupid, gooey, disgusting fluid. It had to be. He wasn’t getting any such errors, but he’d thrown himself sensibly behind Thundercracker and he’d caught much less of the spray than either of the others. 

It was not unheard of for the wet, gross insides of organic species to affect Cybertronians -- many of them used various forms of electrochemical energy, and plenty could produce secretions that caused rust or corrosion on prolonged exposure. But rarely did it act so fast, and never had he seen one cause overheating -- he’d never seen an organic spray one, either, although fortune knew they shot all sorts of other contaminants out of various places. It wasn’t impossible, it just --

In what seemed like the least appropriate physical response to danger ever, Thundercracker’s modesty plating opened with a comically loud _snap_. He dropped to the muddy dirt like his knees had dissolved.

He made a helpless little noise and hunched over in the soft dirt. His wings lifted and spread as wide as they could, trembling with the strain, and from where he was standing Starscream could hear the soft, slick hissing sound of a spike pressurising. 

Skywarp wobbled two steps closer, reached down and stroked along one of Thundercracker's wings, right along the edge, with a soft whispery _shiiing_ of metal that Starscream could hear over the rain. 

"What in the pit are you two _doing_?" Starscream demanded. He was nearly drowned out by the dazed and heady moan the touch wrenched out of Thundercracker. It was shockingly loud.

"Ohh. Um. Fragging," Skywarp said, very bluntly, sliding to his knees in the dirt, which -- yes, that much was obvious, but it didn't answer the more urgent implied question, which was, obviously, _why were they choosing now to frag?_

Thundercracker's fingers hooked into the plates -- wide open, showing flashes of the tangled wires beneath -- of Skywarp's pelvic armour and he dragged him in, closer, until they were supporting each other's weight. There was a soft hazy halo around them, created by the glow of their over-bright bio lights and the stars above, reflected from the rain as it turned to sizzling mist around their plating. 

"You cannot be serious," said Starscream incredulously. He reached down, grabbed the base of one of Thundercracker's wings -- which should have hurt mightily, given how sensitive they were -- and heaved on him, determined to separate them.

He got disgusting alien slick all over his hands, lost his grip, and stumbled back. In response Thundercracker's engine turned over with a hard, hungry rev. "Screamer," he said, voice low and mixed with the growl of the rumbling engine, " _yes._ Touch me."

Starscream stared.

"Skywarp?" he said. 

It was a relief when Skywarp turned at the sound of his name and looked at him. It was less of a relief when he said, "Hey, Screamer, you wanna spike?" 

"I -- what -- _no_ ," said Starscream. His hands were hot where the fluid had gotten all over them. 

Skywarp grunted and returned to Thundercracker, who had his long legs hooked around Skywarp's hips already. His spike gleamed wetly in the starlight, slicked with rain and his own lubricants. Starscream had seen it before, so many times, but he felt curiously mesmerised by it now. It was a nice spike, the perfect size for someone their size to take without excessive stretching or discomfort. And it had a lovely line of over-bright bio lights, leading like a pretty trail all the way down the underside of its length right to Thundercracker's slick and pulsing anterior node.

"Skywarp, come on," he was saying, shifting restlessly, drawing his trine mate in with his arms and legs.

It was... nice. Starscream tilted his head, annoyed when Skywarp closed in enough to obscure the view. "Mmm," sighed Thundercracker, voice thick and foggy with bliss, "yes."

For a second, Starscream stood there watching in morbid fascination as his trine mates gave up frontal processing and crawled all over each other in the dirt and the rain, glossy with strange organic fluids and lubricant.

Then _his_ plating snapped open wide in an effort to expel built up heat -- caused by the alien goo or by watching two pretty mechanisms rut in the dirt, it was hard to say. He felt the trickle of fluid, mixed liberally with the rain, slide down his cables even as steam hissed from inside him.

Six errors hit him at once, flashing ominous pink in his visual feed, just in case he had missed their obvious effects elsewhere.

Personality firewalls bypassed? He didn't think he'd seen that error before... what did that...

Oh.

A priority warning eclipsed the other errors: _processor integrity compromised._

Oh, _pit_ no.

He shuddered violently and snapped all his plates closed. It was too late, he thought bleakly, but perhaps the effects could be mitigated by limiting further exposure. 

He turned deliberately away from the absurd scene of his distracted trine and pinged the Nemesis on his comm and got nothing but static. Of course. The storm was still raging. 

Behind him, metal went _clank_. Thundercracker's vocaliser gave up completely and started spitting static, and over that Skywarp swore softly. His voice was corrupted by the deep thrum of his engine working hard.

Starscream's interfacing systems went hot behind his modesty panels.

He did not look back at his trine mates.

He couldn't go back without the energon, anyway.

Even if he could bear the humiliation of it, which he certainly could _not_ , a queasy twist of his tank reminded him that Megatron would make scrap metal out of all three of them if they came back sick and empty handed.

Yes... Megatron use his big, powerful systems to pound Starscream -- to, uh, to hurt him -- and then...

Starscream lost his train of thought.

Megatron...

He reset his optics hazily, then dug up his processor history and tried again.

That was right. Energon crystals. Because Starscream could not handle the humiliation of being bested by a bunch of organic aliens, and _also_ because Megatron would prop Starscream's greyed up frame in a plexiglass box on the bridge and ask him if he had anything to add during briefings. And then he'd laugh.

Megatron would... with his big, warm hands... definitely, he would kill...

Behind him, Thundercracker gave a very familiar squeal and Skywarp said, "oh pit yes, you're squeezing me, you're-- oh, _Thundercracker_ \--"

Starscream twitched. His own wings spread wide, making soft inviting wiggles, begging to be touched and petted. And he could feel it. Upon their flat sides, each trickling stream of rain seemed like some huge, intense sensation. It was ticklish and intense and unsatisfying.

He should get moving before it hit him any harder, he thought, shuddering.

He turned cautiously and braced himself.

Skywarp and Thundercracker, both beautiful and shining and alluring, were all tangled together with their fans roaring. Skywarp rolled his hips in a slow forceful grind with the sound of scraping metal, and Thundercracker tipped his helm back and rubbed his wings in the alien dirt and moaned luxuriously.

Starscream's interface array gave a hopeful throb, and his whole frame felt warm -- his fans clicked over, spinning fast enough to hiss faintly -- but he wasn't devoured by uncontrollable lust. Uncontrollable lust just... maybe showed up and nibbled on him, a little.

He exhaled a plume of heated gasses into the rain. It was fine. This was fine.

"Mm," said Skywarp, when he inched closer and dug into his subspace to see if he'd managed to grab any crystals of his own. "Hey... that's not my valve."

"You don't say," Starscream said sarcastically, but the statement made his nerual circuitry light up. His imagination module conspired with his own memory files and flooded his processor with the knowledge that Skywarp's valve would be hot, and slick with all its own lubricants, and soft as steelsilk, and that his sweet little calipers would be fluttering and clenching, twitching with the need to grip something, his nodes would all be lit with charge just waiting to leap across to Starscream's systems-- 

Starscream yanked his arm away before Skywarp could grab it. He jerked back, one step, then another. Skywarp groped blindly for him for a moment, gaze still fixed on Thundercracker, and then seemed to give up when Thundercracker's legs flexed around him.

Right. He had -- he had two energon crystals. Thundercracker had two, Skywarp had one. 

It took him three astroseconds to follow that idea to the conclusion that they had five. They needed ten. At least. Ten crystals.

Something was hissing really close to his audials. It took another five astroseconds for Starscream's processor to catch on: it was his own damn plating sizzling, cooking the rain into gasses before it could touch him.

He was ... he was so hot. 

He knew he shouldn't transform again. If he did, he'd let more of the liquids inside to contaminate his internal mechanisms. He'd probably end up a drooling mess like these two idiots.

Skywarp _was_ drooling now, licking Thundercracker's chest armour with his warm wet tongue. Starscream dragged his optics away, but he couldn't block out the sounds. Thundercracker's engine rumbled encouragingly.

He pulled up Laserbeak's topographical map of the area and programmed in his path -- from here to the crystals and, with a sinking feeling that he was going to get worse before he got better, a preparatory one to the rendezvous coordinates. The Nemesis would pick him up there as long as he showed up.

Starscream drew his blaster as a precaution and set it to its most lethal setting. He walked, one foot in front of the other, out toward the plains at the edge of the forest and back to the bizarre and ugly aliens. It took several times longer on foot, and his thrusters got disgusting, wet organic gunk in them from the journey.

His interfacing systems suggested fragging roughly every seven astroseconds. The demands came so fast it was hard to kill one before the next popped up in his processor.

He got hotter and fuzzier with every step. He felt absurdly sensitive, craving and hot and achy. He felt out of control.

Finally he could make out the glow of the energon crystals again, lighting up the spaces between the silhouettes of huge aliens. He paused at the edge of the safe zone, not quite close enough to expose himself to another spray of fluids by accident.

His array gave another throb, this one with a new series of priority tags. They started to back up. Several errors hit him at once.

Starscream's knees unhinged and he hit the hard packed ground with a thump. He swayed there for a moment and then, dazed, he sprawled back on his aft.

A rock behind him offered support for his back and wings, but in the state he was in every scrape and touch felt like fire crawling its way across the delicate sensors in his wings. He whined softly, and then shoved the butt of his blaster between his knees to prop it up within reach, because he might need his blaster -- but he needed both hands to reach back and clamp his hands over the raw, scraped circuitry in his wings.

And then, of course, his hands felt good there, because his wings were sensitive. They were meant to be diffusing some heat but they just seemed to get hotter and hotter under his hands. A nice... nice pair of wings, he thought hazily. The plating was so silky smooth, polished and waxed and... felt good... And his blaster was hot, building up power to fire, and now it was right there, right between his thighs. Why hadn't he noticed that before? He rocked his hips and the butt rubbed against the panel covering his interface array.

Oh. _Ohhhh_.

He opened his mouth to pant. His vents weren't dumping enough heat, because for some reason there was a priority rule in place that said it was very important to keep his plating clamped tightly shut. 

He was overheating. He didn't know if it was more important to keep his plates clamped shut or to cool down. He didn't have the processing power spare to make the decision.

His fingers scraped on his wings. It felt incredible. "Ohhhh," he mumbled.

He was still sitting there, slumped, stupid, with the butt of the blaster right between his thighs, buzzing with its charge against his modesty panel, when his comm finally crackled to life.

"Starscream," said Megatron. 

His voice rumbled across all Starscream's circuitry. He completely missed the next ping from his interface array. There was an audible _snap_ , and then suddenly the blaster was emanating its soft tempting buzz right against the warm, smooth protometal and silicone of his unprotected valve. 

"M..." Starscream's voice hitched, cracked, and dissolved into static. His optics offlined on their own.

There was a pause. Starscream wrenched one hand off his oversensitive wing plating and pressed the butt harder between his thighs. Oh Primus, the pressure felt so good. The hum of it sang up his frame. Every circuit was alive and buzzing and straining, aching for it. His hands shook where they gripped the stupid thing. 

The blaster had been allowed to charge without shooting for far too long. He let its hot vibrating chamber touch his drenched anterior node, where it slid hard and slick. The sound he made was entirely mechanical clicking and static.

"Starscream, come in," Megatron said again, all mean and growling and incredibly, overwhelmingly hot in Starscream's audial. 

Distantly, it occurred to Starscream that Megatron was also a gun.

Starscream's optics flickered. His wings strained, trembling as they spread wider. His back arched, shoving his wings against the rough rock. His thighs shook and he overloaded, hard, trembling and crackling with it.

"Megatron," he gasped. "Yes. Megatron."

He slumped, shuddering, slick with rain and condensation. His wings were on fire, lit up with sensation. He shoved the blaster away, sending it tumbling in the dirt. The butt of it was slick with his own lubricants, and it gleamed in the light from his own bio lights. 

He could almost trust his own judgment again, he thought, but he'd thought that three minutes ago too -- just before he'd slumped down against a rock and humped his own gun to a limb-shaking, twitching overload.

His frame really liked that thought. 

The blaster wasn't ... wasn't that far away, was it? He eyed it.

"... Starscream?" Megatron prompted after an odd pause.

Starscream's valve clenched. His systems glitched hard. An error about the temperature of his laser core came and went. The nodes inside his valve ached and throbbed for attention.

"Meg--" he reset his vocaliser, "Megatron. Yes." 

"Finally," grunted Megatron's voice over the line, and Starscream shut off his optics again. _Oh no_. "What in the pit is taking so long? You've missed your rendezvous."

Rendezvous, rendezvous... that sounded like the sort of thing he did. Yes. All... military. That was him.

He let his vents open, let his plating fluff out wildly. He could not for his functioning remember why he hadn't before. That rule was stupid, why had he put it there?

The rain carried all those fluids straight into his internals where they slicked his wires and cables. It tickled, smooth like oil rolling down every sensitive part of him, and he let his fans kick up to their highest setting. He felt so... he eyed the blaster again. Maybe he could fit the end inside. His valve was soaked and all his internal nodes were swollen. He'd feel it press into every one of them. He'd probably scream a lot. 

"Worried?" Starscream parried. It wasn't a very good rejoinder. He wasn't sure what Megatron had been saying. He couldn't remember.

"Annoyed," Megatron corrected in a critically peeved voice that somehow just made Starscream feel like all his circuitry was on the verge of melting.

"Starscream," he said again. Starscream bit back a moan. He wanted Megatron to keep saying his name. He wanted to feel Megatron's huge, clumsy, hot hands all over his armour. He wanted Megatron's spike. He wanted -- "What's going on down there?"

Starscream's fans heaved, his vents yawned wide, his laser core was blistering hot. For a moment he thought he'd expire of pure want.

Energon. He remembered. Energon crystals. Humiliation. Murder.

Stupid organics with their hideous poisons.

"Biological contaminant," he gasped. There. That was it, he'd delivered the important information. The satisfaction in having achieved that somehow just made his entire sensory system deliver a beautiful little shock of pleasure. 

"What?" Megatron responded. It was loud and harsh. Starscream's hand drifted between his thighs again. He traced the bio lights on his spike gently. The sensation made him see stars.

"Starscream," Megatron was saying, sounding more and more irritated and impatient. He sounded like he'd said it a few times.

Starscream's fans hitched.

"Don't tell me the organics have bested you so easily," Megatron said. Then after a moment he laughed, like he'd thought about the possibility and the idea amused him. It was a mean laugh and Starscream's whole body responded to the sound of it, positively humming with charge. His hand closed around his spike, and he could feel fluid well at its tip and roll in a slow maddening trickle down one side, where it met his fingers and was lost to the rain.

"Megatron," he sighed, a sound corrupted by both static and the hitching, sighing, brutally revved up sound of his voice. His finger slid past a particularly good node and his whole frame arched for it, engine screaming, fans roaring. He growled. Oh, he was so _hot_.

"Starscream." No more laughter there. "Where - is - my - energon?" Megatron demanded dangerously over the comm, giving each word equal weight, like gunshots.

Energon, he remembered. Organics. Energon crystals.

He yanked his hand away. 

Primus but his fingers were actually dripping lubricants. His entire interface array gave a long, punishing throb. He was so hot and so wildly charged it was actually painful.

"Next -- storm opening. Next one," he got out, feeling like he must have been half drowned out by the thunderous howl of his own fans. 

"You are testing my patience," Megatron warned him. 

Starscream shuddered so hard his plates rattled. "I'll get them," he rasped. 

"You had _better_ ," said Megatron. Intellectually Starscream knew a threat when he heard one. He knew that the dark promise in his voice was a warning, but his interface array wanted to get picked up, tossed over the command console and fragged by a mechanism big enough and powerful enough to give him that warning and _really mean it_ , and every circuit and wire and newly melted connection in his frame knew that Megatron was exactly that big and that powerful. In the end, he was probably lucky that Megatron cut the line between them before Starscream could sob pathetically into it about how very, very badly he wanted him.

He didn't feel lucky. He felt aching and swollen and absolutely wild with charge. 

And he couldn't make his panel close.

He slid his fingers through the mess of rain and transfluid on his spike, pressed hard, followed it down until he could run his fingertips over the swollen, slick bump of his external node.

He thought about it, about Megatron's huge frame covering him, holding him down. He let his imagination tell him that he'd feel the thunder of Megatron's engine vibrating in his wings. He rubbed fast and hard and his whole body throbbed.

"Megatron," he said again, quite desperately, and overloaded.

His comm was off. It was fine.

It didn't satisfy any part of the craving, but at least his spike lost pressure.

He still couldn't make his panels close.

Okay. Maybe putting his interface equipment away... just wasn't going to happen. There was nobody here to see. He still had to get the crystals.

 _Think, Starscream,_ , he demanded through the heady fog of lust. _Think_. 

His hazy optics drifted over the milling aliens and their energon crystals. 

And an innocuous cluster of scilanium tetroxide, with its telltale gold streaks, glittering in the light from the crystals.

He heaved himself from his aft onto his knees, ignoring the clench of his valve calipers, which were hungrily seeking contact at the shift, like every motion of his frame was a new position in which he might be able to shove a spike --

Stop thinking about that. 

The blaster was slippery in his hands. He wasn't thinking about why that was, either. Rain. It was rain.

Starscream picked a cluster, away from the energon crystals, aimed and fired.

The minerals went up in a blinding burst of heat and light and thunderous noise. Even though he'd been expecting it, been kneeling and braced for the rush of pressure and light and hot gas, Starscream's battle protocols skyrocketed from a cautious alert setting to full combat without anything in between. The debris of the detonation streamed against his plating in a rush of wind and dirt and rain. He shuttered his vents, and then felt them snap open involuntarily again a moment later.

All around, the aliens made those disgusting rumbling, meaty noises. They were startled into confused movement, flapping their skins and darting this way and that.

Unsteady but direct, Starscream got to his feet and staggered to the crystals. The startled aliens made their own distraction: he'd expected them to flee the big noise and high heat, but their confused stumbling was fine, too. Either way, there were plenty of things for them to notice that weren't him.

He jammed as many crystals as he could grab into his subspace, turned and wobbled away while they were still making ugly, meaty noises at one another.

Two steps away, one alien made a startled jerk and slammed its body into another, prompting a rain of hot organic secretions. This time they hit Starscream head on and sluiced down his plating.

Fluids went right through the wide open gaps of his seams. They drenched the cables, fuel lines and sizzling hot protoform beneath. 

Starscream staggered.

His visual feed glitched in the sudden new wash of intolerable heat.

He scrambled to dig up his topographical map and the coordinates for the rendezvous before his processor went completely rogue. Then he turned and started walking and ignored that even just putting one foot in front of the other made his whole array jolt. He was achy and sensitive.

He stopped at his coordinates stood there while the rain pounded down upon him, sliding under his plating. It thinned out the organic goo, giving it a thinness and slickness that let it get in everywhere.

Lubricant dripped slowly down the inside of his thigh. He shut his optics off and let his fans run up as high as they liked, until it felt like his frame was screaming at him.

He'd never wanted to get fragged this badly before.

Then, finally, there was a break in the storm: the rain lightened. He could hear the distant hum of the Nemesis's engines. They didn't seem louder than Starscream's fans.

Starscream stumbled back onto the ship on automatic. The cool air on board was blessedly freezing on his plating. Everything seemed hazy and unreal and it all blurred together. The bridge. He was meant to be on the bridge, right?

"Finally," said Megatron's voice.

He looked up and found Megatron was waiting for him.

He looked huge, and powerful, and in that second Starscream's frame decided he looked exactly like everything Starscream had ever wanted. His whole sensory network throbbed this time, a long hard pulse that seemed to hit every part of him. He could feel another wet rush of lubricant between his thighs.

"Megatron," he said, in a voice that was absolutely not even close to professional.

Around him, drones and officers alike looked up and toward him. There were several vocalisations that he didn't listen to.

Megatron was staring at him.

Starscream tumbled the crystals out of his subspace. "You said," he said, as clearly as possible, which -- was not that clearly. "You said I couldn't."

Nobody came to collect the crystals. Starscream stepped over them, unsteadily approaching Megatron. He was so huge. Starscream put his hand out and slapped it down on Megatron's chest armour whith a bang.

"You're so _big_ ," he said, breathless and thrilled, staring at it.

Megatron grabbed his hand and his touch lit up sensors he hadn't even known he had. His whole frame shuddered. His wings made those tiny eager wiggles. _Touch me, touch me._

"Somebody pick those up," Megatron said at last.

"Gloves," Soundwave said from nearby somewhere, "advisable." Oh, Soundwave was nice, too, Starscream thought. Beautiful, lovely Soundwave. So many good angles.

"You've done well," Megatron said, and Starscream's body didn't even let him stop to be offended about how surprised he sounded. It just shivered, hard, and his knees felt like they were made out of energon goodies, the nice soft gooey ones, and he swayed. 

Megatron did not even seem to notice. "Where are Thundercracker and Skywarp?"

For a second all he could think was that they'd looked so good together. Then he remembered they were still here on ZX772 somewhere. If he went to find them, he could join in-- 

If he went to find them, he'd inevitably join in, he thought. And he wouldn't get to hand over the crystals...

But Megatron had the crystals now, didn't he?

There was a weird crashing noise, metal on metal, of the kind that Starscream usually associated with someone losing a fight. But he hadn't been fighting Megatron, he'd said he'd done well, so it couldn't have been _him_ , and anyway, he was meant to be answering--

"Contaminated," Starscream said distantly. Oh, Megatron was even bigger now. And his knees weren't doing anything taxing, and Megatron _smelled amazing_. "So contaminated. Won't stop fragging each other."

There was a long pause. "You don't say."

"Organics. Spray. Something."

"What a succinct and informative report," said Megatron from all the way up there, in as mild a voice as he ever got.

Starscream rubbed his face into his ankle joint and moaned. When had he ended up on the floor? Whatever. He'd begged Megatron for things he wanted a lot less. Like being allowed to live. "Megatron, _please_."

There was a pause during which it seemed like Megatron was deliberating. It was long. Starscream pressed his face harder into the heavily armoured joint of his ankle. It was so much cooler than his own plating. He licked him. Ohhhh.

His array throbbed again, so hard, and he snaked one hand between his thighs. His anterior node was aching. Someone, somewhere in the room, cursed softly. Starscream wasn't listening.

"Please," he said, shaking. Then, when it had no effect: "Megatron, please."

"I suppose it is nice to see you occasionally remember your place," Megatron told him.

"Mm," said Starscream.

There was a pause again. "Isn't it, Starscream?" 

His voice felt like it vibrated all the way down Starscream's plating. "Yes," he said. He wasn't absolutely sure what he was agreeing to, but also: whatever. "Please, Megatron. Megatron."

"Do you like grovelling at my feet, Starscream?" Megatron asked conversationally.

Something in the back of his processor suggested that this wasn't a question Starscream liked being asked, but he couldn't seem to figure out why. His vents hitched.

Megatron rubbed his foot along the side of Starscream's face. It felt good.

"Well?" he asked.

Starscream rubbed his face against him. "Yes, ohhhh-"

"Ha," Megatron said.

Starscream whined. He slid two fingers into his valve. The hungry wet clench of his calipers finally encountered resistance and he moaned loudly.

"Clear the bridge," Megatron commanded.

There was the clattering rush of a mass exodus, and then Megatron yanked his foot away from Starscream and just -- he picked him up, one-armed, as easily as if Starscream wasn't twenty tonnes unfueled, and shoved him down again, this time face first against the seat of the throne.

That seemed like as good a place as any. Starscream arched his back and dragged one thruster up the outside of Megatron's much sturdier leg. 

"Please," he repeated.

Megatron's huge hand smoothed down his back. He could feel his fans spinning up harder and higher the closer it got to his aft, and he arched and shoved himself into the touch. 

He shuddered when it did get there, when Megatron's fingers slid over the seams of his pelvic armour, over his bare interface array. "You really have gotten into something," he heard him murmur, fascinated. 

"Yes," Starscream agreed. He sobbed when one of those fingers slid across the lips of his valve, stroking gently. He could feel every bit of them, every scuff and scrape on their rough surface. He spread his thighs eagerly and rocked back as far as Megatron's heavy hand on his back would let him. The nodes just inside his valve strained and swelled and craved, and then Megatron's fingers followed the same path backwards, dipping gently inside. 

"A-ahh!" His spine bowed and his wings shook with the strain of spreading out as hard as they had, a desperately inviting display. 

"Hmm." Megatron dragged his fingers back up the sodden length of Starscream's outer valve lips and slicked them over the throbbing bump of his anterior node.

Starscream overloaded with a squeal, sharp and abrupt, in an unexpected jolt of pleasure that made his knees wobble. He dropped to his elbows on the throne. A wing clattered against one arm. "Ohhhh," he breathed. 

"Oh, yes," said Megatron, sounding strangely delighted.

"Megatron," said Starscream. He felt like it was one of about three words left in frontal processing. The others were 'please' and 'yes'. He whined, wriggling fitfully. The overload was good, but it wasn't satisfying. He wanted more. More, more, more. "Frag me."

He could hear the soft hiss of Megatron's spike pressurising behind him, and he shuddered happily at the sound. He was going to get fragged. Finally. He'd never wanted it this much.

Megatron's spike rubbed against the lips of his valve. _Oh_ , he thought, _that's big. Ohhhh. Good._

It slid into him with no real resistance, except perhaps for the greedy gripping and clenching of his calipers, which was so pronounced as to seem obstructive. The movement of the metal bands behind them made the slick swollen walls of drenched metalmesh and silicone that made up the soft, hot insides of his valve contract wildly around Megatron's spike. 

"Oh," said Starscream, soft and desperate. It felt so good. It felt _so good_.  Megatron shoved a hand between his wings and held him down with all his overwhelming, infuriating, unfair strength while his spike hit every node in Starscream's valve and lit him up from the inside.

"Oh," he said, and then again, loudly and desperately, while all his insides clenched and twitched and his sensory net lit up and crackled with hot satisfying bliss.

He overloaded. It wasn't a short soft shock of pleasure and relief. It was a hard, screeching, convulsive thing that went on and on and _on_ , until his visual feed was flickering and he had so many errors queued he couldn't think past them. 

Megatron kept going right through it, long hard thrusts of his spike that made Starscream spit static.

One of his fans gave out, and he was hitching in great ugly sobs when he came down from the vicious high of his overload. He was shaking and tingling and there was a slick pool of lubricants between his legs and beneath his mouth. Oh. Ohhhh.

"Starscream," Megatron rumbled in his audial. He sounded pleased, almost fond. It made Starscream's valve clench again, wetter, harder.

His engine growled, a thick and heavy noise in the blistering air between them. "More," he demanded hoarsely. 

Megatron laughed, not even meanly this time, just pleased and approving. Starscream's emotional subsystem spat out an error, completely submerged beneath all the sensory ones. Megatron's huge powerful hand hooked into and took firm hold of Starscream's pelvic armour. 

The next thrust of his enormous, overpowered body scraped Starscream's cockpit over the seat of the throne with an ugly screech. His helm thumped into its back and Starscream just heaved an arm up and braced himself. He bared his teeth. 

"Harder," he snarled, which Megatron seemed to take as a challenge.

There was steam leaking out Starscream's transformation seams. Megatron's vents hissed air down upon him, and it felt chilly to Starscream, too cold to come from someone's roaring cooling fans. He moaned shamelessly with every huge, punishing thrust, feeling nodes inside his valve that usually went ignored suddenly light up in wild, overwhelming surges of pleasure.

He overloaded again, just as hard. Between the broken fan and the unnatural heat of his frame he felt his neural system start to falter.

"Megatron," he slurred. He could feel himself drooling on the seat of the throne. Megatron hitched his hips back and pressed his huge warm frame against Starscream's back.

"Starscream," Megatron growled into his back, strained.

The next overload crashed him -- he definitely saw a reboot error -- but he came back online after and discovered he was overloading again, still, messily. That definitely wasn't right, or normal, but Megatron was groaning hard above him and it felt so good he didn't care.

He felt Megatron overload deep inside him. The transfluid was almost cooling compared to how hot Starscream's valve felt.

It seemed like forever before the compound worked its way through Starscream's body.

Megatron’s spike gave up four rounds in. 

Starscream had not been able to make fun of him for it, even though a righteous mocking was no more than Megatron deserved. His processor was far too compromised by whatever he’d been exposed to.

Instead he wriggled shamelessly while Megatron grunted and held him down, trying to disentangle them both. When he finally pulled away from Starscream, he twisted and launched himself at him. 

It was more surprise than Starscream’s weight that took them both to the floor. Megatron held on tight in his own overload-fogged daze, fingers digging into the wide-open seams of Starscream’s armour. Starscream made needy noises of static and mixed up crackly vocalisations while he rubbed his interface array on one of Megatron’s huge, silvery thighs until the friction against his anterior node made him overload again, loudly and messily. 

That seemed to revive Megatron’s interest a little, or at least it had given him time to rest, and he hitched Starscream’s thigh up with one hand and effortlessly lifted him with the other. Starscream could not have escaped if he‘d tried, and as Megatron’s spike slid easily back into his open sloppy valve, he let his optics flicker off again.

“More,” Starscream grunted without turning his optics back on. He rocked his hips. Megatron made a wordless noise in response, but he dug his fingers into Starscream’s seams, heaved him up and drew him down again. Starscream delighted in the sensation of Megatron’s spike sliding hard against so very many of the nodes in his valve all at once. He moaned loudly and encouragingly. Metal clanged. His valve rippled despite the hard use. Megatron’s engine growled, a huge and intimidating and desperately sexy sound, and Starscream whined and bit him. 

Through it all, his instincts and base coding purred happily, deeply satisfied to have gotten, finally, exactly what they wanted.

And then Megatron grunted again, knocked Starscream off his lap and over onto his back, and crawled over his grasping, craving hungry body once more. He was enormous and overwhelming, and up this close every firing piston and thumping pump and soft hiss of metal sliding on metal seemed deafening. 

“Starscream,” he rumbled, deep enough that Starscream could feel it in his plating and his struts, sounding half-sated already. Starscream raised his arms and his legs and wrapped both around his big frame, and together they descended into a confused, murky bliss for a very, very long time. 

* * *

 

  
Starscream woke again later, nearly lucid, and found himself sprawled on the floor of the bridge beneath Megatron’s throne. His error logs indicated he’d cooled too rapidly, he was underfuelled, desperately in need of coolant and that his memory files were corrupted. He ached. 

“Ugh,” he said. His memory files were unpacking and leaving him with the realisation that he was feeling all these things because he’d been fragged to within an inch of functioning. 

By Megatron.

Disgusting.

Exactly as good as he might have expected. But disgusting.

And of course _mighty Megatron_ had left him there for anyone to see, covered in fluids and splayed out with his panels open.

Maybe this would be one more humiliating event that nobody ever spoke about in his presence again. Starscream could live with that -- and, importantly, so could all those hypothetical mechs who did not bring up awful topics. 

Starscream had a lot of experience with those kinds of events. And also with pointing a null ray at people who brought them up.

He got to his feet, slowly and carefully, and wobbled halfway across the ship to the wash racks. A drone noticed him, looked up, looked down, and immediately made himself scarce. Yes, that was the 'never mentioning it again' protocol in action.

After having begged in public for Megatron's spike, that was probably the best he could hope for.

That organic goo had gotten into joints and wires that he couldn't even reach. Angling the solvent inside his plating only got him so far. There was no amount of boiling solvent that would make his frame feel properly clean. He'd have to get help from Skywarp and Thundercracker later.

Unsatisfied, he swayed out of the washracks, downed two cubes of energon, and crawled into his berth all alone.

 

* * *

  
Joors later, a heavy body slumped on top of him. Someone kneed him in the thigh trying to crawl over him.

"Left for dead on an alien planet, huh," said Skywarp, croaky and exhausted-sounding. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

Starscream didn't even flick on an optic. "Don't be melodramatic," he said sleepily, a most hypocritical chastisement.

"Oh, you're not dead," Skywarp said by way of response.

Something poked him in the side. It had better not be Skywarp's foot, he thought darkly. There was _literally_ no limit to the number of drills he could force him to fly.

It was probably Skywarp anyway. Starscream grunted.

Somewhere close by, Thundercracker hummed tiredly.

"Give it a rest," he said to Skywarp, "at least neither of us fragged Megatron in full view of the security cameras."

"Mm," mumbled Starscream. Then, a second later, his optics onlined. "Wait," he said. "What?"

 

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this fic in pretty much its entirety in one day last week, and then my computer ate it... and I was too bummed out about the whole idea of it to even try typing it up again for another week, haha. Despite it taking way longer than it should have because of that, it's not very heavily edited because I got exceptionally impatient with it. Sooo if you see any really obvious or bad typos or massive continuity holes, feel free to let me know if you like.
> 
> Otherwise, if there was something that you enjoyed about this very self indulgent, very pornographic fic and you are inclined toward commenting, please feel free to let me know!
> 
> Edit: my twitter is over [here](https://twitter.com/fascination_ex/status/1132055643848826881). I'm always looking for people to follow who make recs or share cool art etc


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